


Dean and Very Bad, Very Awful, Werecat Bite

by samalambis



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crack, First Time, Fluff, Heats, Humor, M/M, Mpreg, Top!Sam, Werecats, all in all dean gets preggers and sams feeling guilty as hell, bottom!Dean, dean should really learn to listen to sam, ish, or my attempts at it???
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-03-22
Packaged: 2018-03-12 23:06:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3358676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samalambis/pseuds/samalambis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The general rule with werecat hunting was very clear; don’t get scratched.  But above all else?</p><p>Never, ever, get bit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> originally this was supposed to be a oneshot based off a crack prompt, but then my muse was like 'no samalambis, no, make it. make it chaptered.' and now its just hella long and im like no wHY THIS but eh, whats written is written.

The general rule with werecat hunting was very clear; don’t get scratched.  It was advised to wear thick, concealing clothes to avoid any unnecessary cuts caused by their sharp, dainty claws.  The reason being, what could arise from it.  While it varied person to person, the scentless secretion that coated the thin nails often came with side effects.  Most of the time it was harmless headaches and fevers.  

Although, some who were more susceptible to the toxin would often go through what they could only describe as a daylong heat.  Heat, as in animalistic mating habits, heat.  Filling the victim with the insatiable need to jump the very first living person they see.  Some considered this easy enough to deal with, just find a cheap whore or high tail it to a lover, and all would be well. 

In comparison to the bite, being scratched was a walk in the park for practically anybody.

-.-. .- - / ... -.-. .-. .- - -.-. .... / ..-. . ...- . .-.

“Dean, I really think-“

“Aw, shut up Sam, we got this.”

“Dean.”

“Come on, it’s just like werewolves, except, well, cats.”

“No, Dean, look,” Sam said as he shoved the dusty journal in Dean’s face.  “If you just read this here.”  One long finger jabbing at a small, barely there, scribbled down note.   So insignificant to Dean he had to strain his eyes from the short distance he was from the book to even see the damn thing.  “It expressly warns against going in without proper protection.”  Sam’s eyes were wide, mouth set in a fine line.  He shook the journal minutely when Dean seemed to no longer pay attention to the cracked pages, his urgency barely denting his brother’s self-assurance.

Dean scoffed, one hand coming up to push the leather book out of his face, shoving Sam playfully a fair distance back and hooking his thumbs in his jeans pockets.  Sam backed willingly, expression of disbelief clear on his face as he cradled the small journal close.  Seconds of silence passed, Dean smiling brightly and Sam unable to do much else than gawk, and so with a defeated sigh he smoothed the pages and shut the book.

“Look dude, we’ll be  _fine._   It’s just another monster, nothin’ important at all.”  The older brother’s tune was cheery, light hearted as he scavenged the Impala keys from the left pocket of his jacket.

“Dean, everyone says-“

“ _Everyone_  says to be extra careful when fighting were’s, nothing new.”  Dean seemed assured in his confidence, rolling his shoulders back and striding off towards the car, whistling a low tune as he went.  Sam for his part stared exasperated at his brother’s back, setting the journal back down on the motels rickety desk before slipping into his thick leather jacket and tilting its collars up.  His pants were dense enough he might as well be wearing two of them, thick brown gloves matching to his heavy duty boots.  Though Dean might not be worried at all, Sam was one for precautions.  Thus, if every text and person warned against werecats and their nasty venom, he would be all for gearing up against it.

He hurried his way outside when Dean began to impatiently honk the horn, locking the motel’s door and sliding into the passenger seat.  Barely enough time to buckle his seatbelt and Dean zoomed off, smirking at Sam’s winded look.

“Well don’t you just look prime and ready for the ball.”  Dean said with a snicker, patting his jacket collar down while giving a pointed look to Sam’s.

“Up yours Dean, just trying to be safe.”  Sam said, a sigh evident in his voice as he leaned his head against the window.  Cool glass helping to alleviate his oncoming headache, to which loud music playing in the car did not help.

“Safe my ass, we’re practically pros.  All we need is our weapons and we’re good to go.”  Dean shouted over the music, fingers tapping away on the steering wheel to the beat blasting out the radio.

Sam deemed it not worthy of answering, knowing anything he said would be rebutted and chose to stay quiet, arms crossed and eyes closed.  The hunt was a good hour drive, the werecat’s nesting in the forested mountains far from the town they actively hunted in.  Smart, Sam guessed, throw the hunters off their trails longer if they spent time looking in the nearby woods instead of the forests farther away. 

Logic didn’t make the drive any easier, what with this uneasy pit in his stomach gnawing away at his confidence.

-.-. .- - / ... -.-. .-. .- - -.-. .... / ..-. . ...- . .-.

“Sam-  _fuck_  that stings!”

“Dean!  Did you-?”

“ _Yes,_ shit just, fucking,  _get us out of here!_ ”

“I’m  _trying!_ They’re everywhere!”

“Slash all of their fucking heads off, I don’t care!  I don’t think-“

“Dean?”

“…”

“Dean, you still here?”

“…”

“ _Shit._ ”

-.-. .- - / ... -.-. .-. .- - -.-. .... / ..-. . ...- . .-.

“You got bit.”  Sam said, rage barely contained as he glowered down his brother who sat at the edge of his bed.  Dean was cradling his bandaged hand, the white cloth stained a disturbing shade of orange and skin reddening where the gauze didn’t cover.  Whereas Sam couldn’t keep his gaze from glaring holes into Dean’s head, Dean seemed as if he couldn’t focus on one object for more than a second.  The jittery behaviour was offsetting, to say the least, but did nothing to lessen Sam’s anger.

“Dean,  _you got bit._ ”  Sam repeated, because even he was having a bit of a hard time accepting that fact.  Dean looked up at him finally, wide eyed and if Sam calmed down just enough he might have noticed the genuine fear shining there.

“Yeah.”  Was Dean’s eloquent reply and Sam tossed his hands in the air, staring up at the ceiling and mouthing a few choice words.  Of course Dean would get bit.  Of friggen’  _course._

“Do you have any idea what’s going to happen?”  A pause for thought, “Do  _I_ have any idea?”  Sam stated more than questioned, a gloved hand raking through his hair as he paced about the room.  Dean stayed seated, wounded hand held close as he bit into his lower lip, gnawing the flesh until it reddened and swelled.

“Does anybody know?”  Sam said spitefully, a hollow chuckle leaving him.

“Bobby might.”  Dean chipped in, voice meek but Sam still couldn’t find it in himself to really notice.

“No, Dean.  No he won’t, we asked him, remember?”  Sam swiveled in his step, turning fully to face Dean who appeared mesmerized by the molding red carpet at their feet.  “Oh wait, _I_ asked him, you played cowboy.”

“Fuck you, Sam.”  Dean said bitterly, glaring up at his brother, shoulders hunched defensively.

“Yeah, well fuck you too.”  Sam replied, anger no longer held back as he turned away, marching towards the bathroom and muttering scorn beneath his breath.  “Pros my ass.”  He said more to himself than to Dean, slamming the door shut and shedding his clothes.  He needed time to level his head and clear his anger.  A shower was in order.

-.-. .- - / ... -.-. .-. .- - -.-. .... / ..-. . ...- . .-.

_He was burning up, motel sheets a brushfire against his flesh.  His heart a bruising force within his chest, body aching, but for what he could not discern.  Trembles wrecked through him, back arching, gasp tearing forth, a cry not entirely human slipping free.  Release, that’s what he needed, to be filled, taken, used, yearning for rough treatment.  Clawing at the sheets and clothes being shed, he couldn’t wait.  It wasn’t petty want or craving, it was need, bone deep and wrecking his mind with the desire for hands and tongue and teeth._

_Distantly a door opening, steam pouring like mist, familiar voice breaking into the fog of his mind.  As if it were a siren’s song the maddening lust taking seed further and he let himself fall into it.  Judgment clouding over and senses dimming to only the most bestial of instincts.  In a short flurry of movements his world disintegrating to nothing more than touch and need._

-.-. .- - / ... -.-. .-. .- - -.-. .... / ..-. . ...- . .-.

Dean’s never felt more fucked in his life.  In both the literal and figurative sense of the word.

The first thing he noticed was how sore he was.  His ass especially.  Second, was that the room was far too bright for morning.  Was it morning?  He doesn’t remember much, only Sam storming off to shower and himself sulking on the bed, cradling his wounded hand.  Which strangely enough doesn’t hurt anymore.  It’s just a gentle ache now.

From what he can recall from the previous night was there must have been something wrong with the air conditioning because damn, it was hot.  He remembers heat and large hands and a rush he can’t quite place.  All in all it was confusing and he needed to get to the bottom of it right away.  For all he knows it could be a symptom of his bite.

His attempt at getting up was thwarted by his entire body denying him the movement, slumping back into the bed with a load groan.  Okay, something was up.  Maybe he was just sick.  Hopefully.  Maybe.  With a loud huff he figured yeah, his hope was a load of crap.  This was obviously the werecat bite and so he tried to look on the bright side of things; it could be worse.

As he lay in misery wondering where he went wrong in life the door to the motel burst open, the frame shaking and hinges giving an awful creak. Dean had the ability to shoot up now, shock overriding pain as his hand went to the gun which was… not beneath his pillow.  Huh.  He hadn’t much time to panic over that detail before he realized it was just Sam.

Who looked a little worse for wear.  The poor kid’s eyes were red and cracked, dark rings lining them and hands shaking where they held a bag of presumable food and a large cup of coffee.  Seems the night wasn’t bad just for him.

“Dean, you’re uh, awake.”  Sam said, voice uneven and nervous; something had obviously shaken him.  Dean hadn’t much time to figure anything because suddenly Sam was lurching forward, drink’s contents swilling about the lid dangerously as it was thrust into his hand, fingers circling the warmth instinctively when Sam shuffled back a pace.

“That’s good, excellent, that’s coffee for you, black, like you like it.”  The younger brother’s words were mumbled and Dean’s brain really wasn’t up to much currently, having just awoken to a horribly aching body and confusing jumble of memory.  Sam stared at him, gnawing on his lower lip until he burst once more into action, hands fumbling the bag of food before shoving it onto Dean’s lap in one messy movement.

“And food.  Thought you would be hungry.  Its, uhm, pie, because you know, it’s your favourite.  And a cheeseburger with extra onions on it.  Real greasy.”  Sam chuckled awkwardly at the end, scratching at the back of his head and something really must have scared him, because he was never this up to catering Dean’s wants.  Dean’s head swiveled as he looked blankly down at the food bag in his lap and the steaming coffee in his hand.  He was certainly confused, because, what?

“What?”  Dean asked, voice hoarse and throat roughly against him speaking.  He ignored the urge to pull a face, rubbing a hand on his neck while taking a slow drink from his coffee.  The dark liquid did little to soothe the pain, but it’s rich taste did wonders for his mentality and wow, this coffee tasted like the good stuff they usually don’t pay for.  Dean squinted his eyes up at Sam, examining his face and wondering why exactly his brother wasn’t so angry anymore, because last night he was pissed as hell, and now he’s suddenly falling on Dean’s whims and refusing to look him in the eye.

"Sam, what’s going on?"  Dean asked tentatively, speaking not so painful but maybe that was because he was really curious, curious and a little bit scared of what answer he may get because if anyone was hard to scare, it was Sam.  And here he was, practically biting through his nails and looking like some addict who wasn’t able to get their next fill.

"Hm?  What?  Oh no, nothing’s wrong, it’s all, uhm, perfectly, fine.  Yeah, fine."  Yeah fine Dean’s ass, seemed like Sam was trying to convince himself more than he was Dean.

“ _Right,_ and I’m a fairy princess.”  Dean stated, sarcasm lacing his words and seeming to only make Sam’s avoidant behaviour worse.  Sam now backpedaling to the small table in the corner, falling into the rickety chair none too gracefully.  Dean could hear the cracking and splintering of the cheap wood from where he was, and would have commented on it if Sam didn’t look so bad.

"I don’t know, you could be.  I mean, you have pretty eyes."

Dean didn’t bother replying to that, because it was so left field Dean didn’t think it had the proper qualifications for him to even considering answering.

-.-. .- - / ... -.-. .-. .- - -.-. .... / ..-. . ...- . .-.

"So you going to tell me what’s up already or am I gonna have to be stuck guessing?"  Dean asked Sam from the passenger seat, slumped where he sat because he never rides shotgun and yet here he was.  Sam insisted on driving, like it was the only thing that would give him purpose in life and Dean admitted he felt a little bad for him, so he relented.

"I already told you Dean, nothing’s wrong."  Sam sounded more firm this time, less frantic and panicked so perhaps allowing him to drive was the right thing to do.

"Sam, you look like your entire world has just burnt down all around you."  He paused to look outside, watch all the trees and bushes pass in a blur of greens and golds, dissipating to dusty fields and desert.  Moving to sit up straighter he uncrossed his arms, putting his palms out and flaring them upwards in confusion.  "I mean come on, last night you were pissed as hell and now you’re being as nice as can be!  What’s your deal?"

"I have no deal."  His little brother sounded more defensive, hunching his shoulders and holding the steering wheel with both hands, fingers clenching until the knuckles turned white.

"Yeah sure."  Dean said blithely, slouching back into his seat with a loud sigh.  Sam didn’t seem like he wanted to chat from here on out, which made absolutely no sense.  Dean felt like he should be the one acting all dark and angsty, considering he got bit by a supernatural creature that pretty much no knows anything about, but here was Sam, brooding his way to the stars.

"Can you at least tell me what went down last night?  Everything went a bit fuzzy after you stormed off."  Dean said, scratching at his head and kicking his feet up on the dashboard -carefully of course, no need to harm his baby.

Apparently asking was the wrong thing considering the car suddenly did a swerve that would do a number on her tires and Sam jerked her to a hard stop, dust clouds and screeching asphalt rising through the air as both the brothers lurched forward in their seats before slamming back.  Dean was flabbergasted, mouth hanging open as he couldn’t choose between anger, worry, or just plain betrayal.  No one had the right to slam the brakes on his girl, no one.

"What the fu-"

"Can you just stop asking so many damn questions?"  Sam cut him off, words quick and harsh and Dean was never more confused in his life.  He threw Sam an indignant look, unable to believe that is what Sam nearly killed them over.  Because seriously, what the fuck?

"Sam.  I’m going to say this once, and only once."  Dean paused, coughing a bit as he loosened his seat belt.  "If you ever deem yourself worthy of halting sixty miles per hour in a second to ask me to shut up again, I am going to jam my foot so far up your ass…"  He stopped again, closing his eyes as he envisioned maiming his brother in various ways.

"So far up your ass, the water in my  _knee,_ will quench your thirst, am I clear?”  Dean finished, turning his head to look at his brother and Sam seemed flustered, mouth opening and closing and eyes wild.  Well yeah, good for him, Sam deserved to be panicked.

"Am.  I.  Clear?"  Dean enunciated.  Sam blinked, looking to his feet and back up to the headboard, all the while muttering under his breath.

"Uh, uhm yeah.  Yeah you’re clear."  Sam said with a nod, biting his lower lip and crunching his brow.  Dean hummed, smile fake and bright as he looked out the window and back at his brother, trying to figure what next to say because he obviously deserves some answers now in light of Sam nearly totaling them both.

"So, Sam, buddy, pal."

"Yeah?"  Sam replied tentatively, face pinched.

"Now that you, you know, nearly toppled my car, would you like to tell what shoved that stick up your ass?"  To this his younger brother sighed loudly, slouching and grabbing at his face with both hands while he made noises of distress.  Dean could really care less now, pity all gone, vaporized like the dust clouds settling back on the ground to where they should have never been rustled up in the first place.

"Dean, can we please,  _please,_ just drop it?”  Sam seemed to beg, voice muffled through his fingers and Dean shrugged his shoulders noncommittally.

"Nope."

"Dean."

"Not getting out of this Sam."

"I really don’t…"

"I really do."

"Jesus fucking just _god damn it!_ "  Sam burst out, hands suddenly smashing down hard against the steering wheel, the car’s horn blaring loud.  Dean jumped where he sat, hands unsure of whether they should raise up in pacification, or reach out and give Sam a good one in the jaw for causing further harm to his baby.  One wary look shot Sam’s way made him question both, his brother looking more, well, ferocious, than Dean’s ever seen him.

"Ho-kay then, why don’t we just," before Dean could say more Sam was up and out of his seat, Dean flinching to the sound of the car’s door slamming shut.  He looked through the windshield in shock, watching as Sam yelled in frustration, kicking up dirt and tossing his hands around.  Okay then.  Touchy subject.

Dean watched Sam act like a ticked off bull a few minutes longer, until it seemed like he calmed down enough to at least listen to reason.  He carefully exited his car, making sure to shut the door nice and slow, before turning to find Sam hunched on the ground, hands buried in his hair and breath fuming.  Approaching as he would a spooked animal, Dean made sure to give a wide berth, just in case Sam decided he felt like tearing Dean a new one like he did the ground.

A few meters from Sam is where Dean stopped, hands up and face neutral so he wouldn’t agitate his brother further. 

"Sam?"  He called out, careful and easy as he shuffled a bit where he stood, body still sore from the night previous.  Sam made a grumbling noise at the sound of his voice, perking his head up slightly.

"Sammy?"  The nickname seemed to do it, Sam standing in a fluster.  His hazel eyes were wide and frantic, hair frazzled and it was actually kind of frightening for the giant of his brother to solely place all of his crazed focus on him.  Dean tried his best not to fidget, keeping his smile warm and understanding even though he really felt this should be reversed.  Honestly, wasn’t he the one bit by the werecat, not Sam?  Perhaps he should check him for bites, make sure Sam’s not hiding a few teeth marks somewhere.

"We fucked."  Sam spat out, quick and jumbled and Dean sincerely didn’t understand what he meant.

"Up?  We fucked up?"  Dean clarified, head cocking inquisitively as he attempted to diverge the answer from Sam as delicately as possible.  It didn’t work, or maybe it did, perhaps this was improvement, but that was hard to consider when Sam was two inches from his face.  His hands grabbing hard at Dean’s biceps and shaking him as if that would make Dean understand what was going on.

"No Dean, we _fucked._   We didn’t fuck up, no that would make everything fucking easier, we fucking.  We fucked.”  Dean’s head spun as Sam spoke, mind trying to make sense and only formulating the answer ‘that was a lot of fucks’.  Of course, Sam shaking him like some sort of children’s toy didn’t help him think too clearly.

"What?"  Dean asked again, unsure still of what Sam meant.  The answer was becoming clearer, still however, it was unbelievable in what it entailed, and so Dean wanted to feign ignorance a moment longer.

"I shoved my dick up your ass.  Clear enough?"  Sam snapped, fingers clenching a bruise into Dean and oh.  Well then.  That was… not expected.  But that would explain the fuzzy memories that now screamed fun in the sack, and with Sam being the only one around at the time…  Jesus, Dean was an idiot.

"Oh."  Dean responded, eloquent and utter poetry and Sam’s nostrils did that little flare they always did before he reached the point of no return so maybe Dean should be paying more attention.  But he was just told he got fucked by his brother -his little brother no less- the night before and had little to no memory of it, so excuse everyone if he had a bit of trouble concocting something better than a mumble.

"Just ‘oh’?  That’s all?"  Sam said, releasing Dean and backing up until he reached the front of the car, leaning heavily against it and looking skyward.  "I just told you we fucked last night and ‘oh’ is all you have to say."  His voice was quiet, his words almost a murmur, Dean only catching it because he was paying extra close attention to the world around him.

Everything was a bit flip floppy at the moment, Dean uncertain on how he should feel currently.  Of course, he expected himself to feel some form of disgust, or horror, but he mostly found himself feeling curious.  Instead of general revulsion he wanted to know more about the happenings of last night, more so to clear the foggy details and have everything squared away.  He wondered what it said about his person that he wasn’t too affected by being told his brother screwed him, but their life was already a train wreck of bad parenting and noncomformative (if killing things ever became the norm Dean might just have to shoot himself) living standards, all in all, he considered this to be a best case scenario.

"It could have been worse."  Dean stated, and it was the truth, at least to him.  The bite could have left him a foaming at the mouth mess of organ failure and seizures, worse; it could have turned him.  Really the whole getting fucked by Sam wasn’t too disheartening compared to those other options.  A bit weird perhaps, because this will be an absolute delight to deal with, knowing Sam and his ever long partnership with manpain and self-loathing.  Not that Dean was one to talk but hey, at least he was taking it better.

"Worse?  _Worse?_ Dean, we, I, I can’t believe.  Dean this  _is_  worse.”  Sam said, hands thrown up in disbelief and face clear incredulity.  Dean shrugged, hands dug deep in his jacket pocket as he really could care less.  He didn’t know why Sam was freaking out so much (well he did, but this was just excessive if you asked him), wondered why his brother didn’t just take a chill pill and use that freakish brain of his and logically analyze the situation.

Unless…  Maybe Sam felt guilty for reasons other than the whole incest bit.  Yes, Dean was sure they could handle that problem alone with enough time, but last night Dean wasn’t in the right state of mind.  He was in no way able to give consent, let alone to being fucked by his brother of all things, so considering Sam, he probably assumes he raped Dean.  He did in a way, Dean guesses, but at the same time he also figures he was pretty damn hard to deny anything if he managed to get through to the ever thick as a brick Sam.  Dean sighed heavily at this realization, shoulders slumping and mouthing a little ‘whipee’, simply knowing this was going to be a blast.

"How?"  Dean started, figuring he might as well lead Sam through the events he himself has no memory of and hopefully draw Sam to the conclusion that no, everything was fine, it was just the bite that made this very strange and unusual happenstance occur.

"How what?"  Sam asked tiredly, one hand massaging his temple, the other crossed over his chest defensively.

"Well, how exactly did we lead to fucking?  I’m pretty sure we don’t just accidentally fall into someone."  Dean said, clearing his meaning and although sure he should have worded it differently, you know, for the more sensitive people like Sam, he deserves leeway for pretty much everything that had transpired these past two days.  Sam twitched uncomfortably at his question, both arms now crossing his chest as he looked at Dean’s feet.

"Why?"  Sam questioned instead of replying, Dean sighing because he didn’t want this to turn into some sort of one word pass back game.

"Because you just told me you ‘shoved your dick up my ass’, I would like to know  _why_ and  _how,_ if that isn’t so bad.”  Dean responded, crossing his arms he figured it safe enough to move closer, stopping a few feet shy from Sam.

"Well, it was, you were." Sam said, words stumbling about like babies first learning to walk.

"I was?"  Dean pressed.

"Look, I left the shower after about twenty minutes and you were just rolling on the bed, making these weird little noises, and you wouldn’t stop no matter how many times I called your name.  And then…"  Sam stopped short, face colouring.  Dean leaned in curiously, moving to sit next to Sam but halted by one of Sam’s hands pressing into his chest, palm flat and holding him there.

"But then I yelled your name, and well, that seemed to work, except it didn’t, it really didn’t."

"What do you mean?"

"You suddenly latched on to me, and you wouldn’t let go and then you started begging and making these little whimpers and I don’t how long that lasted before I, oh god I."  Sam couldn’t continue it seemed, face colouring bright red as the hand not holding Dean back covered his mouth in shame.  Dean hummed, pursing his lips and lowering Sam’s hand with a touch to his wrist before sitting next to him on the car.  Well wasn’t this just a toughie.

"Then?"

"Oh fuck off you know what happened then."  Sam said tiredly, head turning the other way from Dean.  The older brother sighed, one hand rubbing at his neck awkwardly.  He didn’t think he would ever have to deal with something like this, and so being faced with it he was left directionless with a guilt ridden Sam and no clues as to where to go.

"Well uh, it could have been worse."  Dean restated, and sure yeah, it could be.

"Dean, just stop."

"Well hey!  It could have!"  Dean defended, turning his body to face Sam who still refused to look at him.

"How?"  Sam asked, shoulders slumping and hands held up in confusion.

"The bite could have left me a mindless foaming mess."  Dean said, scooting back further on the hood until his feet barely scraped the dirt.

"It  _did_  turn you into a mindless mess.”  Mumbled Sam tiredly, facing forward and resting his elbows on his knees, head in hands.

"But not a  _dying_  one.”  Dean offered, sure that this would shine some light on Sam’s dark mood.

"That would have been easier."

"Hey!  Are you claiming a dying me is easier to deal with than a sexed up me?"  Dean said, honestly a bit offended because come on, at least he wasn’t going to drop dead (he hoped) in the next few days.

"Please, please don’t say that."

"What, come on, you totally dealt with a sexed up me."

"Doesn’t mean I want to think about it."

"Aw don’t say that Sam, I’m sure it was fun."  Dean said with a chuckle, leaning back against the car, arms crossing on his midsection.

"Are you trying to ask if I enjoyed myself?"  Sam asked dubiously.

"No."  Dean said, drawing out the vowel before casting a glance skyward, watching the clouds float pass.  "Maybe."  Dean finished, shooting a nervous look to Sam.  He was curious, sue him.

"No.  Just.  Just no."  Sam replied slowly, shaking his head and getting off the hood.  Dean watched as he re-entered the car, on the passenger’s side this time, so Dean rightfully assumed sharing time was over.

-.-. .- - / ... -.-. .-. .- - -.-. .... / ..-. . ...- . .-.

_bonus;_

 

_~~scene which totally happened~~ _

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> laughing bc i didnt even write chapters im just chopping this huge file at random spots

"What are you doing?"

"What are  _you_  doing?”

"Nothing, Dean.  I’m doing nothing but laying here and hating life.  The real question is, what the hell are you doing on my lap?"  Sam asked, looking up at Dean who for some reason or the other chose Sam’s hips as the perfect place to sit.  More of a straddle really, Dean’s hands planted on Sam’s firm chest while he stared at his younger brother’s face with an unreadable expression.

It had only been a day since their wonderfully awkward conversation, and they were in the middle of a rest stop at the Buck n’ Tuck Motel.  Somewhere along the way of driving Dean had begun to feel a bit antsy, the itch in his body akin to what he felt the night he got bit.  It was a bit worrying, but he was too busy wondering how he would get more details of the night out of Sam to really bother with it.

Dean knew something was up by the fifth hour mark when he began to notice Sam in various ways he shouldn’t.  Like how his hands were big, too big to be fair and how they looked really strong, dependable.  Then Dean realized how nice his younger brother smelled, how large he was, how smart and tactical he could be.  Leading to that Sam must have nice genetics, really good genetics, so good that it would be a crime against humanity to not pass them down.

Which  _then_  led to a series of painfully distracting thoughts featuring Sam.  Sam, holding him down on a bed, his little brother stretched out over him with miles of tantalizing tan skin which Dean was just itching to taste.  One big hand pinning his wrists to the mattress, other sliding down his body and teasing the hem of his shorts.  God, he'd be strong, Dean wouldn't be able to move an inch, not with Sammy up there keeping him down and making him beg before he got what he'd been panting for all night.  And Dean would try to get out, try his damn hardest but he wouldn't budge at all, bruises forming from his struggles and Sam would just be smirking down at him, hands flexing and perhaps the little fucker would yawn, just to point out how useless Dean's attempts were.  

He imagines Sam sliding in to him, filling him up until he couldn't breathe and Dean wouldn't need any time at all, already out of it and would just beg Sam to move, because that's what his little brother would want to hear.  The pace would be rough and quick, his body burning because he didn't give himself enough time to get used to the stretch but hell he wouldn't care, not with Sam's massive cock giving it to him real good, nailing his sweet spot every thrust and filling him with his brother's superior genes which would surely give him the best brood- wait what?

That’s when Dean nearly crashed into a tree, trying to figure out where all these strange out of place thoughts were coming from.  He only barely scratched the surface of the bark and returned to the road thanks to Sam yelling his name and reaching over with his long arms, forcefully turning the wheel against Dean’s direction to shove it straight.  Dean was sure then a break was in order, telling Sam he was perfectly fine to drive and stopping them at the nearest motel he saw.

Of course, he wasn’t sure how exactly he ended up in Sam’s lap.  All he could recall was Sam getting a room as he got their bags out of the car, waiting impatiently for the door to their motel to open when Sam seemed to fumble the keys fifty times and just dumping their luggage in the corner.  He was unusually fidgety, bursting with an unknown energy that demanded reprieve.  It was a bit of a blur then, one second fully dressed and decently cognitive, the next stripped down to his boxers and sitting on Sam like he belonged there.  He was positive his actions were fueled by the sudden itch spreading everywhere, making him squirm and fret where he sat, mind clouded with thoughts of Sam and heat and needing relief.  There were other thoughts, but they were a bit freaky, and thus quickly dumped as weird ass kinks that he clearly needs to never think about practically ever.

Even with this knowledge, it was a bit of a mystery to Dean why he ended up here on Sam.  It seemed to him like he was just feeling horny and oddly kinky, which is why he had his Busty Asian Beauties and his right hand and a imagination qualified to sustain a small country.  None of it should have latched onto Sam and made him the star of his fantasies, and even  _then,_ even with Sam being the lead actor, he could have been fine with his mind giving him plenty of nice imagery and sensory feel to keep him happy.  Nothing logical should have led him to this position.

"Dean."  Sam said, breaking Dean’s brooding.  Dean looked down at his brother, fingers tapping away on Sam’s unfairly fit chest and he still was a bit unsure of everything aside from how good it felt to sit here.  It was insanely good, so much so Dean shifted until he was completely comfortable, ignoring the small sounds leaving Sam as he did so.  

"Dean, stop that."  Sam warned in a high voice, hands leaving his side and grabbing hard at Dean’s hips, attempting to halt the shifting that Dean apparently didn’t stop.  He thought he stopped, but the moving did feel even better than just sitting so Dean didn’t blame himself.

"Stop what?’  Dean asked, content smile on his face as he pressed down harder, a shaky sigh leaving him when his ass brushed against the bulge in Sam’s jeans.  That was good, Sam was just as excited as he was, even if Sam was limiting his movement with those strong hands of his trying to hold him still.  Hell, even that felt nice.   _Everything_  was nice, he just needed something to fix this little itch of his and then it would all be super.  Sam could help with his little problem, because Sam was dependable, of course Dean would turn to him now.

"Seriously."  Sam ground out, fingers now digging bruises into Dean’s flesh, "Stop.  Moving."

Dean didn’t, continuing his soft hip rolls through Sam’s restraint and panting lightly.  Sam had to understand if Dean was this worked up over a little one sided grinding then he really needed something to take the edge off whatever was making him this needy.  Not to mention the only person who seemed remotely liable to help Dean was Sam.  It had absolutely nothing to do with his little brother being the only thing his mind was currently thinking of.  That and Sam’s hands which look and feel like they could do amazing things to Dean’s senses, and then there was Sam’s perfectly sculpted body, and don’t forget Sam’s strength.  Really, his brother was perfect for helping Dean out right now, it wouldn’t kill him to lend a hand, would it?

"Come on Sam, help a brother out."  Dean said once Sam finally managed to still him, skin white around Sam’s grip.

"No, no you can’t.  Dean that doesn’t, I."  Sam broke off with a groan, thumping his head back against the pillow and staring woefully up at the ceiling, straining to halt Dean’s movements.  Dean didn’t care much for Sam’s lack of enthusiasm, he could make up for the both of them.  Besides, Sam was obviously interested, otherwise Sammy Jr wouldn’t be so perked up against his ass.  All Dean had to do was get his little brother completely on board and then they could both have some fun and Dean would be relieved of his very inconvenient, very uncalled for need to be forced down and filled.  If just the very thought of his cravings made him clench in anticipation, then Sam had to take pity on him.

"Please Sam?"  He asked, tilting his head and spreading his fingers wide on his brother’s chest, purposely skidding over a nipple as he did so.  Sam’s brow furrowed, looking back to Dean with pursed lips as he replied.

"No."

"Sammy, please, just this once?"

"There are no just this once’s Dean, you’re are going to get off me right now and go take a shower."

That didn’t seem like much fun Dean thought as he leaned forward, crossing his arms over Sam’s chest and resting his chin on the intersection they made.  Sam didn’t look like he approved the action, but made no move to push Dean back to his original position.

"It’ll be fun, please, I really need-"

"To get off me."  Sam finished for him.  Dean didn’t let it bother him, focusing solely on how Sam’s lips moved and wondering how they would feel against his own.

"Come on man, please?"

"Dean, no."

"Sammy, buddy,  _please?_ ”

“ _No._ ”

-.-. .- - / ... -.-. .-. .- - -.-. .... / ..-. . ...- . .-.

Sam's had something relatively close to a doozy of a week.  It's been horrible really.  What with waking up to his brother completely naked next to him, covered in bruises and hickeys and well it didn't take very long that first day to figure out who exactly graced Dean with those lovely marks.  It was a bit of a panic, admittedly.

Okay it was a major panic but you tell him how he's supposed to react to waking up next to his brother,  _older brother,_ butt naked, covered in dried juices he really didn't want to think about.  He wasn't supposed to react positively, in fact it was supposed to be the exact opposite, and since Sam's kind of been angling for normality, he freaked.  Tumbled out of bed limbs flailing because Jesus Christ Dean was  _in his arms_ and plummeted like the graceful bull he was to the floor, ass first and face gaping like some fish trying to eat but failing miserably.

His heart was racing, head spinning and once he felt a safe distance from Dean he detailed him over, a frown creasing his face because he couldn’t keep his eyes off of Dean’s ass.  Not because he had found it a tantalizing image, but because for the love of everything it still looked slick with lube and don’t tell him that’s his come.

Needless to say that morning was spent panicking and buying anything that looked remotely like something Dean would enjoy to divert attention only to find Dean didn’t even remember it.

And maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad, he could have gotten over it but then Dean being Dean wouldn’t let the elephant in the room that was Sam’s problems lie and kept poking and prodding until he broke.  But then Dean didn’t freak like he expected him to, like he himself did, no he took it in fucking _stride_ and then asked him the mother of all questions, if he enjoyed it.  

He blew him off of course, absolutely refused to answer that question because he felt it answered itself for Christ’s sake.  How else could they have, well, _copulated,_ if his dick and mind weren’t just a wee bit interested in the proceedings?  Couldn’t Dean have just realized that little tidbit and left Sam alone to wallow in shame?

Then again perhaps everything was made worse because he really did enjoy it.  Despite the mild horror he felt when Dean latched onto him, a little, itty bitty tiny part of him he always just kind of ignores flared up in hope.  That, you know, maybe his older brother is just as messed as him and wouldn’t mind Sam screwing him six ways to Sunday?  He admits it was pretty dumb a thought, but when Dean was practically humping his legs and mewling, really, he was _mewling,_ for Sam to…  Well, breed him or something like that, and excluding how weird that last bit was, he couldn’t really stop himself from giving in.

It didn’t stop him from freaking the very next morning but you know, it was an expectation of someone who woke to find they fucked their own brother, who was he to deny society the token panic?

Still, all of this didn’t make flopping on the bed ready to give up on the world only to have Dean just sit on him any easier to deal with.  It probably made it all worse, since now he was on high alert and if this night plays out like the other Sam thinks he might go just a little bit crazy.

Fast forward a few moments and Dean hadn’t moved off of him, even leaned down and despite how hard Sam was trying to hold him still, because really the friction was starting to kill him, Dean was still managing to grind down on him.  And fuck him if he wasn’t starting to respond, the barest of hip rolls up towards Dean and that only served to make Dean more adamant.  No matter how many times he said no Dean kept pressing forwards and begging and Sam wasn’t a saint, okay, he wasn’t and uncaring how bad he felt last time he thought ‘fuck it’ and just went with it.

“Sam, you’re being so cruel man, I just need a-“

“Jesus, _yes,_ alright?  Just give me a damn moment.”  He said in a rush, thumping his head back into the pillow and flexing his finger where they held Dean at his hips.   His hands were on Dean’s hips, again, second time, twice in a row, and the bare fact that Dean’s on him and practically pleading for him _again_ is really putting his head through a spin.

Except Dean didn’t give him a moment, made some sort of whining sound and sat up, pressing his ass down against him and Sam sighed deeply through his nose.   He just needs a minute to get his bearings.  One, Dean’s basically out of his mind again, two, he is having a hard time coming to terms with the fact he’s really up for this both physically and maybe a little bit mentally, and lastly; Dean’s probably not even going to remember this.

Put all that together and it really doesn’t make a nice concoction.  Still though, Dean’s grinding is getting quite a few things revved up and maybe if he just ignores his mind and lets below the belt do the thinking it won’t be too painful when he wakes up.  He could maybe skip the whole ‘oh my god again’ panic and get on with finding what exactly has Dean being so… well.  Assertive.  That works well enough.

“ _Sam._ ”  Dean practically growled out, and Sam had just about enough of Dean playing sensual seesaw on top of him and flipped them around, glaring down at Dean who just smiled triumphantly up at him and wrapped his legs around Sam’s waist in turn.  “ _Finally,_ come on big boy, let’s get this show on the road.”

“Are you sure?”  Sam asked, pinning Dean’s wrists when the damned magically drugged up idiot that he was tried to inch them down to Sam’s ass.

“Yes, yes, come on, whatever you want buddy can we please just-“

Sam quickly shut him up with a kiss before he had to hear anymore false pleas.

-.-. .- - / ... -.-. .-. .- - -.-. .... / ..-. . ...- . .-.

Something smelled pretty good.  Almost homemade good and it stirred Sam awake, his body refusing to move under the lethargy of sleep but his eyes made a conscious effort to open.  After an almost herculean attempt one eye cracked just a bit, blurry but somewhat coherent to the point he could make out Dean sitting at the table shoving something that smelled absolutely heavenly right now into his mouth and he wondered why he wasn’t woken up to have some.

After a few minutes of envious staring Dean seemed to catch on he was being watched, turning to look at Sam with a mouth full of food and Sam’s stomach gave a small obnoxious gurgle.  More staring then occurred, Sam watching Dean watching Sam watching Dean.  Kind of an annoying loop but Sam was tired and really didn’t care, instead rolled onto his back and looked aimlessly up at the ceiling, picking shapes out of the gravelly appearance until he decided he really _was_ hungry.

“So… again?”  Dean asked him carefully as Sam rolled out of bed, not caring for the fact he was ass naked because hey, Dean’s already seen it twice even if he can’t remember it.  It’s kind of scabbed over, that hurt, and he just makes an agreeing grunt as he shrugs into some boxers he hopes are clean.

“Thought as much but hey, uh.  You’re taking it well.”  Dean said slowly, walking over and noticeably limping.  Sam tried his best to ignore it but it was kind of hard when you knew you were the cause.  Dean was wearing the button down Sam had on last night, sporting some clean briefs as he handed over a plate of what looked like a dismantled omelette but it smelled good enough and Sam took it with a grateful nod.

“Got it from the manager, she looked uhm-ah.  Had this kind of flustered smile?  Said we’d need it.”  Dean looked a little flustered himself, scratching at the back of his head as he spoke.  Sam furrowed his brow, looking to his feet as he tried to get as much food into his mouth as he could because it’s been some time since he’s had an actual home cooked meal and just screw savouring it he was hungry.

Dean seemed content to do most of the talking, which Sam was perfectly fine with, and left the younger brother to eat as he shuffled through the duffle bags and pulled out some jeans for the both of them.  He tossed the larger over to Sam’s bed, quickly dressing into his own and leaving to the bathroom to presumably brush his teeth.  Sam had an urgent need to follow, bladder full and all, but didn’t really feel like being near Dean at the moment.

Instead he watched him leave through his bangs, eyes unwillingly dragging down to Dean’s ass and his face heated as he watched Dean move awkwardly away, kind of glad his brother decided a closed door would be best between them.  He doesn’t think he can handle much contact right now, feeling a little numb over the entire situation right now, it’s best they be separate.  Considering how close they were last night, the door managed to be somewhat comforting.

“So I was thinking we should probably start looking into other areas that have any signs of werecat activity.  You know, past or present, see if anyone knows what’s going on.”  Dean shouted over the faucet running and through the thin frame of the door.  The idea sounded good enough, since all of Sam’s efforts have come up completely empty.

After a bit of throat clearing Sam decided his voice wouldn’t sound like a fork scraping against a platter.  “Yeah, I’ll take West.”  Besides, Sam had a little more practice with the Western side of America.  Would be about a day for them to do a complete sweep but if they ask Bobby for help it wouldn’t be more than an hour.  Somehow Sam doesn’t think either of them would be too keen on asking him however.  Only so many things they can slide by with Bobby, and screwing one another?  Even if by accident, it didn’t sound very likely to mix well with the older man.

“Kay.  Want to head down to the town’s library?”  Dean said, voice somewhat garbled and Sam assumed he must be in the midst of brushing his teeth.

Sam didn’t know what they would find there, considering this town has had no history of any supernatural creatures he knows about.  Then again library’s often have computers and considering they only have one which Sam loathes to ever let Dean near, it would be the best place to start their search.

The fact that Dean didn’t change out of Sam’s shirt left a pit in his stomach he didn’t exactly want to examine too closely.

-.-. .- - / ... -.-. .-. .- - -.-. .... / ..-. . ...- . .-.

After many grueling hours of dud after dud of possible points of interest, the one to find the place where their last hopes lay was Dean.  It stung Sam’s pride a bit, but he was just thankful they finally managed to get something worth it to search into that he almost went in to hug Dean.

Somehow Dean managed to find the one other person who had been bit by a werecat and actually went on to tell the tale; Katya Romanov, who ironically enough, was an animal behaviour specialist.  Sam wasn’t able to find much humour in it, whereas Dean got quite the kick out of it.  Gloriously enough for Sam’s mind his brother wasn’t allowed much time to make as many puns as he could off the situation Katya had found herself in, as she lived all the way down in California and that would be a drive that practically no one had the energy for.  Or perhaps it was just him who had no will to go through with it, wary of what he may find out from the woman.

Despite the hesitation clouding Sam’s need for answers, he found himself in the car with Dean looking peppy as ever, singing along to his music while bopping his head with the beat.  It was obnoxious how cheerful Dean could be at a time like this, but Sam tried his best to shrug it off with his brother must be feeling some major relief at the idea they may find out what exactly has been causing him to seduce Sam nightly now.  Sam knows he’s feeling it.

-.-. .- - / ... -.-. .-. .- - -.-. .... / ..-. . ...- . .-.

Half way through Texas and Sam couldn’t stand the blasting music any longer and found little comfort in all his poor attempts at dozing off.  Thus in a fit of frustration and building tension he leaned over and roughly turned the volume mute, slamming his head back against the seat and closing his eyes as he tried to sift through his splitting headache.  Dean didn’t appear too shocked over what he had done, merely passing a glance his way and quirking an eyebrow in an unimpressed manner.

“Really?”  Dean asked him, one arm resting out the window, the other lazily steering them down the I-Forty.

“I have a headache.”  Was all Sam said in turn, crossing his arms and trying very hard not to focus on the time.  His watch read a painful eight thirty and the moon had already clawed its way up the sky, and if pattern proves correct, very soon Dean will begin to fidget and then jerk and one thing will lead to another and Sam just doesn’t feel up to roadside sex right now.

“Oh you’re just pissed because I found our lead first.”  And sure, Dean can go with that.  Maybe he’s also trying to avoid the reality that any minute now he’s going to become a road hazard and get more than a little frisky.

“I’m sure this Katya can tell us what we need to know.”  Dean said, both hands on the steering wheel and window rolled up.  Sam still didn’t say anything, because there wasn’t much he really had to say.

“How’s next time I give you the credit?”  Dean tried again, voice sounding the slightest strained.

Moments passed and Sam still hadn’t said anything back, too busy brooding and clenching his hands into his arms in unwanted anticipation.  From the dark of the car only illuminated by moonlight and the occasional passing headlights Sam heard a soft sigh, barely a breaths length and full of dismal.  He jumped slightly when he felt something bump against his shoulder, peeking an eye open to peer over he saw Dean giving him this weary expression that pulled at him.  Dean’s hand was hovering a few inches from his arm, shied away from their first tentative touch and now unsure of whether or not they had any right to continue.  With a small gulp at his pride he realized what an ass he must be being currently; he can’t blame Dean in full consciousness for his behaviour as of late.

But the clarity still did very little to soothe his own anger at the state of things currently, and to add his own little petty annoyance fueled by the fact he had warned Dean as explicitly as he could to be careful only for that to burn up in flames had much to do with how he felt over everything.  If Dean had just listened this could have all been avoided and they could have continued on quietly hunting monsters without having to look into why Dean suddenly had an insatiable need for Sam’s dick.  They would also have been amazingly enough been able to avoid the tid bit as to why Sam was even able to reciprocate the way he wanted, but he was sure his brother knew very well how.  Dean was just taking pity on him, or beating the bush around.  Sam was sure of this.

“It’s pronounced _Kahtyah._ ”  He said, looking over at Dean and uncrossing his arms, letting his hands rest on each leg respectively.  “Try to get it right when we meet her.”

His brother visibly relaxed at the words, grim look leaving and being replaced with his trademark grin.  His hand stopped hovering near Sam’s shoulder and returned to the wheel, and with Dean’s mood somewhat repaired, Sam decided to sleep until the inevitable situation occurred.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i swear this is my old writing, it gets better. i promise-ish


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy shiznits nOTHING BUT DIALOGUE. BLOODY HELL.

****

The drive was relatively uneventful.  When Sam had woken in a daze, his dreams all too vivid and the sounds of shuddering gasps and soft pleas fading off into the far reaches of his mind, he was mildly confused about a few things.  One; Dean was still driving and it seemed dawn was fast approaching.  Two; it was nearly _dawn_ , and Dean was still _driving_.  He looked exhausted yes, but at the same time entirely unaffected by the little werecat bite that’s left him mindless the past two nights.

Which means…  Which means what?  Sam sat up from where he was slouching, wiping away the small stream of drool and looking to Dean with wide eyes.

“Dean.”  He said, slightly rushed and nearly tripping over the name.  Dean appeared to be driving on autopilot, lids lifting slowly from half mast and eyes practically dragging their way over to Sam.

“Hm?”  He hummed out tiredly, fingers aimlessly tapping away on the steering wheel.

“We didn’t.  It’s.  It’s been one night and you didn’t uh…”  Sam dragged off, not entirely sure of how he wanted to word it.

“Didn’t try to seduce you with my awesome charms?”  Dean supplied helpfully, looking a little more awake, the news apparently lifting his spirits.

“Yes.  Exactly that.”  Sam said, too confused and strangely enough feeling the smallest bit disappointed over this new development to feel any annoyance at Dean’s taunt.

“So that means what?  Werecat bite is done for?”  Dean said with a large yawn, steering a moment with his knees to stretch his arms out.  Sam wasn’t sure that means the werecat’s bite effects were done with, thinking perhaps it was only branching off to new symptoms.  They could be potentially harmful, or worse, lethal.  Then again Katya survived being bit; maybe the symptoms are more of an annoyance than something actually deadly?  But that wouldn’t lead as to why everyone was so tightlipped about what happens to the unlucky sap who gets bit, or why it’s so heavily warned against.

“No…  I don’t think it’s that.  S’good hope though.”  Sam mumbled, following suit of Dean and struggling to get his legs decently straight enough to count as a stretch.  There never was enough room for him in the Impala anymore as he got older.  He cast a glance Dean’s way, cracking his knuckles and feeling like he should take over driving for a bit, his brother has been driving for a handful of hours now.

“Mind if I steal the driver’s seat for a bit?”

“Hm?”  Dean murmured, eyes nearly drifting shut and body jerking every now and then.  Sam scrunched his brow, shooting Dean a worried look and a bit concerned he’d have to drive the car to the curb himself with how tired Dean was actually looking.

“Asked if I could drive for a bit.”  He tried again, speaking as slow and concise as he could but it still seemed to float entirely over Dean’s head.

The fact he proved himself right on the whole taking over bit was indeed a very worrying point as no more than two minutes later of Sam repeating his question until Dean seemed to gain some understanding of it a rather large and imposing van had somehow (and by somehow he means Dean had managed to swerve off their side of the road; and when did they leave the main highway for some backroads?) ended up in front of them, horns blaring and Sam only just managed to get them out of the way and to the side with minimal damage.  It was all very familiar and he remembered almost sluggishly in his adrenaline run shock that he had to do something similar almost two days ago.  What did this werecat bite to do Dean’s driving skills?  Just entirely disintegrate them?

Shaking the thoughts from his head he rushed out of the car and to Dean’s side, finding his brother face down on the steering wheel and passed out.  Manoeuvring him back he was glad to find no major bruises forming anywhere, leading to the slim hope Dean must have either fallen asleep just as the van was about to crash into them or right after Sam got them out of the way.  Either way this could be bad news and Sam wasted no time pulling Dean out and fitting him with no small difficulty in the back seats, backup blanket draped over him and safely buckled in.

Dread filling him up at the possible implications Dean’s fatigue could mean, Sam left little time to twiddle his thumbs and quickly resumed driving to California, keeping an eye out for signs that would hopefully lead him back to the proper interstate highway they originally settled on as the easiest route there.  One hand on the wheel his other drifted to his pocket, Katya’s number (which he had learned off her jobs website, amazing what a few lies can get you) already memorized in his rush to get this ball rolling and he fiddled with the idea of calling her.  She would know what’s going on forefront, right?

One look sent Dean’s way assured him it wouldn’t hurt to at least call her before hand.  Two men showing up at her doorstep at whatever time they arrive, one looking worse for wear and the other appearing no better would not be the best first impression.  They’ve done worse, but this was important and could be a life or death situation and Sam wanted to risk nothing.

With a jittery thumb he dialed her number, pressing the phone tight against his ear and trying to hear past his own blood rushing for Katya’s voice.  He didn’t know what time it was for her, knowledge of the time difference between Arizona and California currently ditched in effort of wanting to know what’s going on with Dean right now.  Was there even a time difference?  It can’t be that late either way.

Finally, after what felt like hours of hearing the same monotonous beeping, a tired womans voice thick with a russian accent picked up the phone.

“Ah…  Hello?”  She asked, and Sam hoped he had the right number.  Though judging by how few people had an accent like her’s in America, he felt probability was on his side at least this once.

“Katya Romanov?”  He asked quickly, introductions first before -painfully, he guesses- reminding her of her crazy experiences she’s had at the uncaring teeth of werecats.

“Uh…  Da, da, you have Katya, and who am I speaking with?”  Some shuffling on her end, akin to blankets and sheets and he felt only a twinge of guilt at waking her so early.

“Sam Winchester, you wouldn’t know me-”

“Sam Winchester?  As in _the_ Winchesters?”  She asked, shock and surprise mixing in and Sam wondered how she even knew of them.

“Uhm.  Yes?”  He answered warily, quietly sighing in relief when he spotted a turn that would lead him back to the Interstate.

“Niet... I know you.  Your father…  John, I believe?  He helped me out with some uh…  Confidential problems.”  She sounded unsure of herself, speaking carefully and she must think he and Dean were unaware of the hunting John did on his own.  The mention of his father stung some, but that wound had time to heal long ago and felt more like an old scab, borderline scar.

“Hunting.  Werecat bite.  Don’t worry, I know.  That’s why I’m calling you, hoping you could maybe share some of the details.”  He explained curtly, wanting to get to the point as soon as he could.

“Oh da, that.”  Her voice was flat, as if recalling the memories weren’t pleasant.  “What do you need to know?  Why not ask your father?”  Now it was annoyed, reminiscent of how Sam was feeling and he felt it wasn’t a far stretch to assume that the both of them would rather be doing something else right about now.

“He’s not available and you’ll have the best answers for us.”

“Us?  Mr. Winchester I do not feel entirely comfortable talking about this to you and some stranger, despite how helpful your father was.  That was a very traumatic experience and I’d rather not-”

“Look, Katya, my brother was bit and I have no idea what’s going on with him and I’d really, really, appreciate the help.”  He tried to sound controlled and calm, but came out firm and frustrated and who could blame him?  The past two days haven’t exactly been all sparkles and sunshine for him.

Silence on her end for a few moments, filled only by the void of Sam’s mind hoping she’ll cave and give him something at least before a soft sigh came through the speaker.

“How long ago was he bit?”

“ _Thank you,_ I cannot tell you how glad I am-”

“How long ago was he bit?”  She bit out.

“Two, no, three days ago now.  Almost, I think.  Wait, uh.”  He answered choppily, counting the days and hours in his head.  “Two and a half?”  He settled on.  By the grumbling he heard from her end she wasn’t pleased with his response.

“Am I right to assume you and your brother are already on your way here?”

“Yes.”

“And that you also know where I live?”

“...Yes.”

“I never wish to know how you hunters get such information.”

“Well it’s not exactly secret-”  He hadn’t the time to finish, the click of her phone resolute and final and he sighed as he pocketed his phone.  “Right.”  Well.  At least she won’t be shocked when they get to her house.

-.-. .- - / ... -.-. .-. .- - -.-. .... / ..-. . ...- . .-.

Six hours had passed and Dean was still out like a light, only the softest breaths escaping him and Sam wasn’t comfortable with that.  Dean never admitted to it, but his brother was something of a snorer.  The noise use to grate on Sam’s ears but as he grew up it became comforting, a familial sound that made him feel safe.  Now Dean has not even the energy to be loud when he’s asleep and Sam was more than glad to pull up a Katya’s house.

It was nearly one pm, and judging by the lack of children out on a saturday he was left to believe this neighborhood was more designated for the elderly or those who’d rather not live close to parents and their kids.  Sam thought it was better with less people out and about, no kids or parents to wonder why a guy was carrying another guy who may or may not be knocked out by a supernatural force into dear sweet Katya’s home.  He cursed under his breath, knowing his mind was wandering to stall time he bit through his nerves and got out of the car, glaring through the sharp sunlight and going to the back seat to try and stir Dean.

“Dean?  Hey, Dean?  We’re here, at Katya’s house.”  He said softly, shaking Dean’s shoulder gently and getting nothing but a grumble of annoyance and a hand swat.  Sam didn’t let that deter him, forcefully pulling Dean up into a sit.  He didn’t expect the sharp jerk and death glare from his brother at the action however, dark rings forming underneath Dean’s eyes and mouth settling into a deep grimace.  Oh.

“I uh-  Yeah.  Katya’s house.  Werecat bite survivor.  She’ll uhm, yeah.  She’ll know what’s going on with you.”  He muttered, leaning out of the door to let Dean shove his way rather crudely out, acting as if the very presence of Sam offended him.  Which hurt.  Quite a bit honestly because Sam thought he smoothed some things over and he was really hoping maybe Dean’s just cranky due to the whole ordeal.

“Let’s go.”  Dean said, sharp and without a second thought storming off to Katya’s door, Sam staring at his back dejectedly.

“Okay.”  Sam spoke into the empty air, following after Dean after locking the doors and surveying the area as he went.  The neighborhood was quiet, only the twitter of birds and the occasional bark of a dog filling the silence and Sam imagines this would be the kind of place he would have wanted to live in if he never got back into the hunting life.  A nice, quiet area where no one would disturb him and he’d be allowed to enjoy the rest of his life in peace.

Dean seemed to visibly tense when Sam neared him, shying closer to the door and the sudden disdain at Sam’s existence was alarming to say the least.  His brother clearly wanted space however and though it hurt some, Sam backed off a few paces and let Dean introduce them, despite the foul mood he was in.

Some loud knocks later and the sound of impatient footsteps echoed through the cracks of the door, Dean muttering something most likely rude in origin beneath his breath until the door practically flew open.  Standing in it’s wake was who Sam assumed must be Katya, blonde curls tied loosely back in a bun and eyes dark and sharp as they stared with an expression that spoke odes of her clear contempt at the situation.  She was garbed in a bathrobe and sweatpants, left hand clutching a small steaming mug and other tapping away on the doorsteps frame.

“Sam and Dean?”  She asked, eyeing the both of them up and down.

“Yes, he’s the one who was-”

“Bit.”  Dean cut him off, arms crossed and foot tapping away on the wooden steps of Katya’s porch.

Katya eyed him curiously, an inquisitive noise leaving her as she stepped aside and made room for them to enter.  “I see.”  She said, walking into her spacious living room and setting herself down on the immaculate white couch which took up the bulk of the area.  The coffee tables surface was glass, black wood the legs and tasteful magazines in a neat pile gathered on it’s top.  The TV was a widescreen hung up on the wall, set on mute and playing some nature channel on lions.

“Have a seat boys.  I’ve no idea still what you expect from me, but I will try to be of assistance.”  Katya spoke as they seated themselves, Dean managing to sit as far away as he could from Sam.  None the matter, this whole thing will be solved in a timely matter.  Hopefully.  Perhaps the touchiness was just a side effect.  Sam could only hope as he got comfortable.

“We hate to bother you, it’s just you’re the only other person we could find who’s been bit by a werecat that’s said anything we could find.  Everyone else was… very tightlipped.”  Sam offered her in some form of condolence.

“Understandable, knowing the proceedings of the bite.”  She said, crossing her legs and taking a sip of her drink.  A silence blanketed them after that, Dean glaring off into the far corner and Katya simply staring at Sam, waiting for the large man to begin his probing.  But now that they were actually here, Sam found it hard to think of what he actually wanted to ask.

“Are you going to ask me anything, or am I to sit here all day?”  Katya said sternly, mug set down on a coaster and from the colour he guess it was either tea or coffee.

“Right. Right, it’s uhm.  Well.”  He stuttered, hands pulling at the other as he struggled to find a good starting point.

“What happened after you were bit?”  Dean asked in his stead, Sam looking to his feet with something of a sheepish feeling welling in his chest while Katya mulled over the question.

“Nothing at first.  Most I felt was shock at being bit by some screeching man until another screeching man burst through the door to my rescue.  Your father.  It was all very confusing, but then it got monumentally more confusing around nightfall.”  She turned to look at the light beams peeking through her intricately laced curtains, dust particles floating in and out of vision.

“You were bit, I imagine you know what I mean?”  She asked, chin motioning towards Dean.  Sam watched his brother grimace, fingers digging into his biceps while he nodded jerkily.

“I can’t recall much, but John was kind enough to keep me locked away to avoid any… unnecessary interactions until the sun rose.  The pattern stuck true for almost a week, and I can assure you it was not a pleasant experience.”  Katya nodded to herself, legs crossing and one hand subconsciously fiddling with her hair.

“Of course the last day I had managed to trick your father into letting me out and ah…”

“Did you- with our dad?”  Sam asked.

“Niet!  I called a friend over and John couldn’t really keep me locked up then, now could he?”  She quickly assured, shifting and taking another sip of her drink.

“Now my friend, well, more of old acquaintance now, we don’t talk much anymore, because of my indecent behaviour towards him that night.  Certain… problems arose.”

“As in?”  Sam pressed, casting a few glances every now and then Dean’s way.

“One, the idiot of a man couldn’t be bothered to get a condom.  Two, when I found out I was pregnant I didn’t exactly want to have a child conceived from an animal's heat brought on by some… creature.  Let’s just say Howard wasn’t thrilled to hear I got an abortion.  Nonetheless, you didn’t come here to listen to me talk of the past.  You want to hear of whatever effects I went through?”

“Uh.  Yes, that would be preferred.”  Sam said, scratching at his neck and leaning back against the white leather.

“I mentioned, it was an animal’s heat.  The most I could assume was that the bite, despite how… against anything correct it was really, forced a cat’s heat onto a human.”  She ended, foot bobbing where it was suspended and drink nearly half gone.

“A cats heat?”  Sam said into the thick silence, Dean now wide eyed and looking over at Katya instead of the framed painting of a mountain hung over a mantle piece where an assortment of objects were placed.

“Da.”

“What does that uh.  What does that mean?”

“It means I’ll need total honesty out of the both of you.”

“What, why?”

“Sam, I’m an animal behaviour specialists.  I know exactly how a cat acts during and after heat, depending on whether it was successful or not.”  Katya said, arms crossed as she sat just the bit straighter.

“Oh.”  Sam said softly, face colouring as his mind just so helpfully supplied a plethora of different questions she would possibly ask.

“Did you two, to put it delicately, copulate?”  She asked while shooting glances between the both of them.  Sam shuffled awkwardly where he sat, coughing into his fist and it seems whatever stick was shoved up Dean’s ass apparently decimated whatever semblance of humility he had.

“Yeah.”  Dean said curtly, turning his head to face the woman.

“You were bit when?”

“Two and a half days ago.”

“And how many times-”

“Twice.  From what I can recall.”  He said, looking down at his lap before shooting Sam a hard glare, something accusatory hiding in the green shade.  Even though it was only for a few seconds until Dean returned his attention back to Katya, Sam couldn’t help but shrink into himself, feeling more and more like the kid caught with his hands down the proverbial cookie jar.

“What time were you bitten?”

“Around night, that’s when we first fucked.”

“Dean!”  Sam snapped, face coloured in embarrassment at how brusk Dean was.

“Dude whatever, ain’t gonna sugarcoat it.”  Dean said dismally his way.  The harsh tone quickly shushed Sam, the younger brother hunching over and deciding the coffee table was the most interesting subject in the entire room.

“And the next night?”  Katya pressed after the Winchester’s quieted, both looking tense and upset but she’d rather get this over with as soon as possible and spared no expense in waiting for them to calm down.

“Same.”  Dean near spat.

“And this night?”

“Nothing.  Kept driving here, didn’t feel jack squat.”  Dean said.  Sam raked a hand through his hair and offered a small jerky nod Katya’s way when she looked to him for confirmation.

“Oh.  Sam, could you do me a favour and exit the room for a bit?  The kitchen is that way.”  She said, hand gesturing towards the hallway.

“Why?”  He asked even as he got up, brushing his jeans off and taking the long way around to avoid Dean.

“Questions I believe your brother would rather answer in private.  Now go along, help yourself to some tea, it’s in the fridge, the large container with the dark blue lid.”

“Right.”  He said, nodding to himself and heading off to wait in painful anticipation.  Cats heat?  That would certainly explain Dean’s insistence.  But if that was their answer then what could Katya possibly need to ask Dean that he wasn’t allowed to hear?  He shuddered outwardly, leaning on the clean marble counters and decided his mind was far too jumbled to think of much else aside from how screwed they were.

-.-. .- - / ... -.-. .-. .- - -.-. .... / ..-. . ...- . .-.

“Dean,” Katya said once Sam was out of sight, turning to him and folding her hands on her lap.  “I know this may be considered prying but honestly I could care less-”

“What do you need to know?”  Dean asked, feeling considerably less irritated now that Sam was gone.  He couldn’t quite explain why, but something about the presence of Sam, no, not just Sam, the fact another male was in the area was really ticking him off.  Worst part is he couldn’t feel bad about being aggressive towards his brother, something in him fueling his irritation and it wasn’t too easy fighting it down.  

So he didn’t really try, but no one could say anything about that.  Past few days have been rough.

“How many times did you two have sex?”  She asked, staring him straight down and Dean tapped his foot nervously under her unwavering gaze,

“Answered this already, but two from what I remember.”  He replied, arms crossed.

“Now tell me, can you recall anything from when you were under the heats effects.  Avoid any explicit details please.”  Katya asked, moving over to reach into her end tables drawer and pull out a small notebook and pen.  The items made him feel a bit wary, wondering why she would need to write down whatever he said.

“Well uhm, uh.”  He  _did not_  choke out, one arm leaving his chest to scratch at his neck while he clumsily sifted through his blurred memories for anything that could be considered helpful.

“We’ve both been there, no need for embarrassment.”  She clarified, as that would help any and he bit down the cheeky response he would have absolutely loved to give her.  He only held back on account she was helping them, or at least trying to, when she could have shut the door in their faces.

“Look, I can remember.  Uh…”  He closed his eyes, unable to handle her staring as he delved into the blanker spots in his memories.  Leaning back against the couch he faced the ceiling, keeping his eyes shut as images that more or less made his cheeks burn began to slowly crawl into his mind, the thoughts following far worse.

“I remember…  Heat, and this weird, jumbly energy and hands everywhere.  Then there was this uhm, strange burning inside me, and I uh.  Well this is gonna sound really fucking weird okay but it was telling me to-”

“Breed?”  Katya said, eyes down on her paper and pen flicking up and down in her hand.

“...Yes.”  He said slowly, face bright red and suddenly really glad that Sam was off doing who knows what in the kitchen.

“And this want only occurred at night, correct?”

“Yes it’s friggen correct, why the hell would I want my damn brother to breed me?  Because that shits more than messed up, this  is just taking the-”

“Dean.  Off subject.”

“Right, yeah, whatever.  Next question?’  He asked with a glower that could mow down a nation.

“I know that when the heat disperses, you are still under effect of these thoughts, do you still feel them?”  She asked, seemingly unaffected by his foul mood.

“Yes- wait, no.  Actually.”  He said, scratching at his hair and feeling genuinely confused.  He hadn’t focused too much today, but the haunting need to have a child (even though he was male and by all means he can’t) had suddenly up and vanished.

“Did it perhaps disappear in a somewhat over dramatic flare last night?”

“No.  It actually left two nights ago, when me and Sam last uh.  Well yeah.”  He looked to the paintings on the walls, gnawing into his lower lip and arms tight across his chest.

“I see.  Were you feeling at all exhausted yesterday?  Strangely so?”

“Well…  Yeah.  But I was driving all through the night.”  He said.  Then again he’s driven plenty more hours than that and come out completely cognitive.  Eight or ten hours shouldn’t cause him to pass out.

“No, actually, yeah, felt pretty tired.”  He restated, still refusing to look at her.

“And when exactly did you feel so… aggressive with your brother?”

“After I woke up today,” he said, looking to his lap and wondering what his annoyance at Sam had to do with anything.  “Look, what’s this have to do with my bite?”  He asked, irate and upset at practically everything.

“I’ll put it bluntly.”  Katya said, sitting up and pushing a few loose strands behind her right ear.  Her tone tugged his head upwards, made him unwillingly look her in the eye.  “You’re following the patterns of a cat a in heat.  One which ended successfully.”

Successfully?  He quirked his head, anger momentarily overridden by confusion.  What does that mean?  He wasn’t too knowledgable on animals, and he was by no means an animal behaviourist.

“What?”  He asked.

“When a cat begins her heat she starts by spreading her scent around, trying to gain as much male attention as she can.  However, since your brother was the only male around it seems the forced heat skipped that step and moved on to the mating process.  A cat will take many partners during this period to ensure pregnancy, as well as to find the most suitable mate.  However…  if the cat catches an endorphin will be released causing her to then become aggressive to all males in the area, while bonding with any female she can in attempt to form an almost pack like instinct to make certain the best survival rate for the young.”

He still wasn’t sure where she was going with this, and he felt she understood that from the sigh that slipped from her and the way she shifted position to something more open, comforting almost.

“From what I’ve gathered Dean, despite all probability, you’re most likely pregnant.”

“Pregnant.”

“Da.”

“You’re shitting me.”

“Niet, though I wish I were.”

“How in the fuck did you come to this conclusion.”  He grit out, one hand rubbing worryingly at his gut because the idea of a baby being in there is just beyond messed up.  It’s pretty much taking the gold medal in the olympic sport of fucked up. But it was too outlandish, couldn’t be true.  Because.  Just because fuck that shit it absolutely could not be true.

“I’m not entirely certain-”

“So you’re wrong.”  Dean interrupted, leaning forward in his seat and a desperately hopeful grin taking up most of his face.  Katya threw him a sharp look, quickly belittling him to nothing but a petulant child who doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut.

“I’m not entirely certain, _but_ , the sudden lack of sex drive, the aggression towards your brother, and the exhaustion -perhaps your body preparing itself for something it was never meant to bear?  It’s not solid nor in any way remotely scientific, but it’s near copy, sans the exhaustion -though I was tired, to my symptons after I became pregnant.  The only good news I can offer is the effects should wear off soon enough.”  She finished, leaning back in her seat and looking done with the world.  Dean felt more entitled to that feeling, staring blankly at her and unable to produce anything more than a strange grumble of Sam’s name.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah gosh so sorry for the lateness of this chapter ive recently gone through a bit of anxiety but its blown over finally and everything seems to be back on track, so i should be able to get the fifth chapter up in about a week or so

Sam was just minding his business, standing in a strangers kitchen, holding a small cup of tea with both hands and dreading whatever conversation was going down in the living room.  Okay, so he wasn’t standing, more of pacing high speeds back and forth and tearing strands of his hair out because this was obviously his fault.  Something was up with Dean because he wasn't able to convince his idiot of an older brother to dress more safe, and he wasn’t able to keep his damn dumb dick in check and now Katya has to talk to Dean alone and he’s panicking.

He was on his twentieth circle around the island counter when he heard a large shattering sound from the living room, a shout from Katya following shortly after.  Before he was able to run in and ask what happened Dean burst into the kitchen, eyes wild and face red with anger.  He hadn’t enough time to ask what was wrong, what did he cause with his sheer stupidity, what was up with the breaking sound, before Dean lunged forward, latching onto his collar and dragging him through the house and to the front door.  His brother was surprisingly strong in this moment, Sam unable to stop the forceful pull and wincing at the sound of the buttons nearest the collar popping out of place.

It only occurred to him after they were outside Katya’s house that he should probably stop Dean and ask what went down.  With a concerted grunt of effort he pushed all his weight into his heels and was glad for his larger size and weight with how quickly it stopped Dean.  Nearly toppled his brother over but in a few catches of feet Dean was standing arrow straight and seething right into his face.  Reminding Sam painfully that even though he may be the larger one Dean will always be a little bit more terrifying when he needs to be.

“This is bullshit, Katya is bullshit, so what the fuck are we stopping for?”  Dean growled out through bared teeth, and the sight made him lean a bit away, hands held up because Dean wasn’t in the greatest of moods when they got here and he certainly wasn’t in one now.

“Dude, what happened?”  He asked, keeping his tone neutral but unable to stop his brow from furrowing in worry.

“What happened?”  Dean asked, rhetorical, leaning back with a harsh bark of a laugh tearing from his throat.  The sound made Sam wince, fear pooling in his gut because whatever had gone down in the living room had obviously spooked Dean something fierce.

“Oh Sammy, let me tell you what happened.”  Dean’s tone was a jeer, eyes like fire zoning back in on Sam’s and Sam suddenly wasn’t so sure if he wanted to be here right now.

Leaning forward the older brother placed a hand on Sam’s shoulder, fingers bunching the cloth while the other patted Sam’s chest, brushing away nonexistent specks of dirt while Dean hummed.  Sam never knew a hum could sound so aggressive, or angry for that matter, but Dean seemed to be accomplishing it just fine.

“You know that strange thing Katya mention, the ‘cats heat’?”  Dean asked, peeking up through his lashes and Sam forced himself to hold eye contact.

“See, there’s this funny little side effect to it apparently.  Oh man, it’s, it’s fucking hilarious.  When you hear it you are just going to die laughing, Sam, let me tell you.”  Sam wasn’t exactly positive he wanted to hear this, felt more like high tailing it down Katya’s lovely neighborhood as far as he could make it.

“Cats.  Cats are weird, I mean, all animals are weird.  What’s with their heats?  Just crazy shit.”  Dean rambled, releasing Sam to turn his back to his younger brother and stare at the Impala, parked innocently on the curb and gleaming in the sunlight.

“Dean…?”  Sam asked carefully, rubbing at the spot Dean just had his hand, feeling bruised.

“Pregnant, Sam.  Animals get pregnant, specifically, female animals do.  Gotta suck being a chick and an animal, when you know theres this clock ticking away in your mind before you go bat shit cock hungry.  Then you wake up preggers and thats just gotta suck loads man.  Just, just big time.”  Dean kept on, one hand shoved in his jeans pocket the other hiding from Sam’s view and Sam was honestly more confused than he’s been in some time.

“But that’s only with girls right?  Fucking no way a male can ever get pregnant, because we guys get it easy, no clock, no heats, no nothing.  Just scotch fucking free.”

“Dean, where are you going with this?”  Sam loathed to ask, lips pursed and hands clenching at his side.  Confusion was running rampant in his mind, Dean making zero sense and Sam was just feeling guilty as hell.

“ _Pregnant_.  Which is such bullshit, Sam, I swear if her eyes weren’t already brown they’d be turning it from the shit she’s just full of.”

“Pregnant?”  Sam asked with a tilt of his head, ignoring the jabs Dean kept tossing Katya’s way.  Thinking of her, Sam wondered where she was during this little commotion Dean was throwing.  A few neighbors were even peeking out their curtains.

“He mean’s that there is a large possibility he’s pregnant, an idea he couldn’t come too until he smashed my table.”  Katya’s voice broke into the open air, full of righteous anger and Sam really, _really_ , wanted to be elsewhere.

“You broke her table?”  He asked first, because his mind was sort of still computing the first bit of Katya’s sentence.

“Damn right I broke her table!”  Dean spat, turning around to face them just as Katya marched forth from her perch on the porch.  Grabbing first Dean, despite the ferocious way he was glaring at her and second latching onto Sam’s partially torn shirt, marching them in unison back into her house and sending death glares to all her nosy neighbors just as one door opened and behind it being a concerned looking middle aged man.

“Dean?  What the fuck-”

“-are we doing outside Katya’s home making a scene?  That, that should be your question.”  Katya said, cutting Sam off and successfully silencing him.  His head was reeling, thoughts going a mile a minute and when he looked to the table it really _was_ broken, the poor glass thing’s shards lying dismally everywhere.  What looked to be an expensive small statue lying near it and from what Sam remembers the pricy object was last sitting appropriately on the end table closest to Dean.  So that was the murder weapon.

“What _should_ be the question, dear Katya, is what in the name of everything fucking remotely holy am I doing pregnant?”  Dean jibed at her, leaning into her space with his teeth bared.

“ _We don’t know if you are_ , _Dean_!”  Katya nearly yelled back, face red from frustration and Sam backed up a bit, not wanting to be caught in the middle of whatever the fuck it was they were yelling about.  Katya pushed past Sam, veering into Dean’s space with a similar expression and Sam felt like he should intervene, but at the same time he felt he really shouldn’t.

“ _Suspecting it is just as bad_!”  Dean growled back, one hand unbeknownst to him resting over his belly defensively while the other remained balled at his side.  The woman gave a short yell of frustration, one long elegant finger jabbing the direction of her smashed table.

“And smashing my table was to fix what?”  She said, voice deathly calm compared to her last tone, eyes boring into Dean’s and while Sam would have long since backed down Dean was just running off some amazing adrenaline because he puffed up even further, using his taller stature to somehow scare her.  Sam was amazed then on both sides, because then _Katya_ stood up straighter, not fazed the slightest by Dean, in fact, she seemed even more enraged.

None of them said anything, just kept staring at each other and Sam figured he was reminiscent to the kid who walked in on his parents fighting.  Except he wasn’t a kid, his brother was apparently probably pregnant, with _his_ kid of all things, and Katya didn’t look remotely like she wanted to come close to the comparison.

Taking a deep breath he walked between them, one hand on each of their shoulders and pushing them away, using _his_ superior height and strength to successfully separate them both.

“Guys seriously, let’s just take a moment and calm down-”

“Shut the fuck up.”  They said in unison, not relenting their glares at each other for even a second.

“Look, Katya, we’ll-” a distinct grumble from Dean, “ _I’ll_ pay for your table, just can someone please explain to me, in a calm voice, what is going on?”  He asked, looking between them.

“Katya, the honours yours.”  Dean said, Sam clearing his throat and warning his brother to shut his trap with a squeeze on his shoulder.

“How kind,” Katya said in turn, looking to her broken table with a sigh.  “It’s still far too soon for anything to be certain, but from what I’m told it’s the only conclusion I can come to.  A cat’s heat generally lasts five to ten days, his was only for two.  He mated both nights, and now he’s tired and agitated and acting like a toddler, breaking things when he’s upset.”  She said, head turning to face Dean’s and the man in accusation refused to meet her eyes, crossing his arms and glaring at his feet.

“But, Dean’s a guy, he doesn’t have the right parts.”  Sam said, confusion lacing his voice and Katya just sighed.

“Look, I’m only offering you what I can.  You’re the hunters, you know more about these monsters, and I am no doctor, I can’t diagnose pregnancy unless it’s quite obvious someone _is_ pregnant.  Add to that it’s only been a few days, _no one_ can diagnose pregnancy this early.”

“It still doesn’t make sense,” Sam said, rubbing at his brow, unable to comprehend what was being said.

“You tell me.”  Dean muttered, looking to his stomach now with fearful eyes and Sam softened the tension in his shoulders.  Katya’s anger seemed to lessen, a soft puff of breath leaving her.

“Look Dean, the table, I’ll, I’ll forgive it.  I can only imagine being told you might be pregnant as a male can be…  Traumatizing, but I ask you refrain from showing your temper as such from now on.”  Katya said slowly and Dean shot her a look, a strange jumble of emotions swirling around and if Sam focused he was almost sure he saw a slight sheen over them.

“So, what do you propose we do?”  Sam asked, looking to Katya because she was the only woman here, so he figured she would certainly have more advice on what to do.

“One, you should stop hunting for the next month or so, if only to ensure that our suspicions are correct.”

“Stop hunting?”  Dean interrupted, voice small and despite how ferocious he looked just moments ago, he looked like nothing but a lost child in an amusement park at the help center waiting for his parents to find him.  Sam’s heart lurched, and too caught up in his own worry for Dean and the entire situation on hand he didn’t resist the urge to put a comforting arm around Dean’s shoulders.  His brother must be as well, as his aggression towards Sam didn’t rear it’s ugly little head and instead it almost felt like Dean was leaning into his hold, their sides pressed together and Katya made a valiant effort on not noticing.

“Can’t we just stop long enough to look for uh, morning sickness?”  Sam pitched in, hand rubbing Dean’s shoulder.

“Not everybody experiences that, though it is an extremely common side effect.  If he doesn’t go through it, but is one of the few who just don’t, you risk damaging the child.”

“Well then what _do_ we look for?”  Sam asked, the absurdity of the situation was not lost on him, but his life has been one whole collection of strange and otherworldly things, and so it hasn’t been too big a shocker that a werecat’s bite (no matter how damned weird it is) can somehow cause a guy to get pregnant.  The only problem he’s really having is it’s his _brother_ who is pregnant, with _his_ kid, his _child_.  His!

“In four to five weeks you should be capable of finding out with a urinary pregnancy test you can buy in most pharmacies.  That would be the easiest, if not…”  She looked down, arms crossed over her chest and fingers tapping into her bathrobe.

“If not?”

“We can always contact a man I know.”  She said, almost ominously as she looked once more to her broken table.

“Who?”  Sam pressed, because it seemed Dean didn’t feel like talking much right now, too wrapped up in his head and Sam didn’t want to bother him.  If he’s having a hard time with this, he can’t imagine what’s going through Dean’s mind right now.

“Niet niet, that shall be for later.  If he is needed.”  She murmured under her breath, rubbing at her arm and looking back to them with a sigh.  Sam wanted to press on exactly who it was they should talk to ‘if needed’ but it didn’t look like Katya was willing to give up any information, no matter the sob story he could come up with.  Considering Dean broke her rather expensive looking table with another pricy object, he doesn’t think she’ll be too divulging for some time.  At least until he gets her a replacement.

“So we just… wait?”  Dean asked at last, looking up from his stomach and to the other occupants of the room.

“Da.”

“And if I’m not?”

“Then we all go our separate ways.”

“And if I… If I am?”

“Then it’s best you stay in contact with me, I fear you will surely be needing my help.”  Katya said, letting her arms drop to her side as she moved away from them, entering her living room and resuming her place on the comforter, eyes adamantly avoiding the broken shards of glass littering her rug.

Sam’s arm was still wrapped reassuringly around Dean, who once again fell silent as he stared at his own feet.  Sam for his part eyed the mess on the floor, shying looks to Katya’s profile which betrayed little on her thoughts to the situation and to the muddied look on Dean’s face.  It all was rather awkward, two male strangers who happen to be brothers standing around a woman’s living room with a broken glass table as they all converse the possibility of one of the said males being pregnant.

“Do you need help cleaning the glass?”  Sam asked.

“Niet, I suggest you two find yourselves a comfortable Inn or Hotel to stay at for the next month.”  She said, legs crossed and hands laying on the armrests, eyes closed and head leaning heavily against the cushions.

“I would allow you to stay here for the duration, however I have nosy neighbors and will be attending to some guests later tonight.  You may see yourselves out now.”  Her voice was tired, one hand waving lazily in the air at them.

Sam didn’t bother responding and began to herd himself and Dean out, only stopping when Katya rose her voice once more.

“Oh, and Sam, the table was eleven hundred.  I’d like it paid as soon as you can manage.  And take mind to call me if something goes awry.”  Was the last he heard from her until they were out the door, strapped into the impala (with Sam at the wheel, he didn’t want any sudden exhaustion from Dean to get them in a crash, especially now) and off to find a good place to lay low as they sort out this horrid mess they found themselves in.

He wonders what it says about himself he’s more marvelled than disgusted at the idea Dean might be carrying a baby. _Their_ baby.  Jesus they’ve only ever fucked twice, and that was under somewhat forced conditions.  And Dean, as if aware to Sam’s thought process gave a tired, if almost drawn, smirk his way from the passengers seat.

“Haven’t even taken me out on a date yet, thought you were a gentlemen, Sammy.”  And before Sam had a chance to defend his gentry, Dean promptly passed out.

-.-. .- - / ... -.-. .-. .- - -.-. .... / ..-. . ...- . .-.

The house was far more quiet once the nuisances left, Katya’s head aching and mouth practically watering for a shot of whiskey or something equally strong.  She rubbed at her temples, humming a broken tune before a small noise from upstairs pulled her attention.

“Mommy?”  Called a soft voice.  A smile lit her face, shaking her head a few times to rid herself of the exhaustion plaguing her features as footsteps, light and close together made their way into the living room.  Entering was a small boy who could be no more than seven, brown eyes large and wide as he ran over to his mother’s side.

“I told you to stay upstairs.”  She said, chiding and light but the boy dismissed it, pursing his lips and crawling into her lap, completely uncaring of the busted table a few short feet from them.

“I did, I waited and stayed real quiet until the men left.  I got _bored_ , I couldn’t play with my toys an’ I couldn’t make boom sounds for my robots.”  He said, legs flying up and hands making an intricate little show to display his distress and utter boredom at the orders.

“It was for your own good, Adrian.”  She said, patting his unruly hair down as he fiddled with his shirt.

“I don’t like it.”  He said, tone whiny and she tutted.

“You know what those men are.”  She said, voice drifting darker.

“Hunters.”  He said with a bounce of his head, as if he was asserting the information himself.

“And they don’t like what you are, they would do bad things to you.”  Those boys seemed nice enough, but she saw the brutality John had served the werecats that had attacked her, and she feared the same fate for her son.

“But why?’  Adrian asked, an air of innocence which almost hurt to listen to beaming from him.

Katya sighed, running a hand through his golden hair as she figured some form of answer the young child may understand.

“Sometimes, people like you hurt people not like them, and some people just aren’t good at telling the bad ones from the good ones.”

“But I’m not bad!  I’m good and do my homework and I even go to bed on time!”  He said, bobbing up and down in her lap and she chuckled some at his energy.

“Of course you’re good, you could never do an ounce of harm.”  She said, leaning in and planting a kiss to her son’s forehead.  He made a small disgusted sound, rubbing furiously at the spot she kissed as she got up, carrying the child with her as she entered the kitchen.  Setting him down she rummaged her hand through his hair one more time, turning to lean against the counter and stare out the glass doors leading to her backyard.

“Why don’t you run along and play, make the booming sounds while I make us some sandwiches?”

“Can they be squares?  Oh!  No!  Triangles, or, or circles?”  He said, hopping up on his heels and she shooed him away, the promise of a cacophony of differing shapes if he does like a good child and listen to his mother.

She watched him run away up the stairs with a wistful grin, a shaky breath leaving her once her son was out of sight and making good on the promise of being loud and destructive.  She had lied through her teeth when she told the Winchester’s she had aborted.  She had come very close to doing so, had been outside the clinic where her appointment was waiting for her but found last minute that living alone had grown rather boring, and who cares how the child was conceived, it was still her child and it would be nice to have some company not raised by the ilk of others.

Of course she expected some side effects, but when she discovered her son had some… unruly traits gifted from the toxins side effects, she was shocked and less than pleased, but from the discovery grew a fierce need to guard him from the terrors of the world, and more or less the horrors of hunters.  He wasn’t a full werecat, not entirely, but he was something close to a decent half and didn’t come with the craving for human flesh as the full species did.  She did find his appetite for red meat was larger than normal, but she was happy to oblige if it kept him sated.

But she knew it didn’t matter if he was half or quarter or even a small percentage werecat, to them he would be a werecat and just another thing to hunt.  Still, despite the fear running through her the entirety of the men’s visit, it was a laughable idea at two hunters, both males at that, having a child that would be part werecat.  A creature they hunted.  If Dean was pregnant that is.  

If he was, she wondered idly how they would take it, would they abort it?  She figured she would find out soon enough, because everything forbid he turns out to be positive she’ll have to help out, her morals demand it.  Plus, it would give her a chance to get a few hunters on Adrian’s side, perhaps show them he’s not a vicious little monster.

Then again, _every_ child was a vicious little monster.

-.-. .- - / ... -.-. .-. .- - -.-. .... / ..-. . ...- . .-.

The first week of waiting passed in a tense silence.  They were both anticipating something to happen, Dean dreading every sniff, every sneeze, and Sam trying his very best to avoid ticking off his brother.  He believes he deserves an award for that one there, considering it hasn’t exactly been _easy_ avoiding his brother's wrath.

Mainly because it seems everything he does is somehow monumentally aggravating to the highest accounts, and Dean can’t possibly fathom either politely asking him to change his somehow infuriating ways or simply ignoring them, as he’s always done.  It’s just everything he’s ragged on Sam for doing has been completely unreasonable.

_You walk too slow_ , he said when Sam had a flimsy motel towel around his waist and he was amiably trying to keep it from falling off and Dean decided right then was when he should go to the bathroom.   _Why do you have to put your mustard on like that?  What’s with the way you style your hair, actually, why is it so long?  Get me coffee, and no, not that pansy shit you drink.  Don’t be so loud when you breathe.  Don’t be this.  Don’t be that._

Dean’s voice was becoming something of a haunting creep in his mind and he wasn’t exactly sure how much more he can take.  He’s thinking this is Dean’s way of getting back at him, because despite the fact Dean was very insistent that Sam shove his dick in him, it was still Sam’s fault for not being able to say no and ensure Dean doesn’t go somewhere else.  And now because Sam was a damn idiot and too weak to deny something he’s been craving -he’s far past denial already, as that train left the station the moment the words ‘pregnant’ and ‘Dean’ came together- he now is forced to reap what he’s sown.  He’s trying to be an adult about it, a mature, responsible adult, but that gets harder with each passing day.

“Seriously man, why ‘dya have to be so annoying when you read, can’t you go read outside or something?”  Dean whined from his perch on the bed.  Their chosen motel was fancier than most of the ones they stayed at, the bathroom shower wasn’t too bad, there was a kitchenette complete with mini fridge and shitty microwave they’ve had to replace twice now, and the beds weren’t the worst.  Less lumpy and springy.  It wasn’t a complete revamp, but it was better and the only thing Sam was able to get Dean to agree to.

“Why don’t you, I don’t know, Dean, watch some TV or just look the other way?”  Sam replied, trying to keep as much snark as he could out of his tone while he very much focused on the book before him.  He wasn’t really reading, had reread the same line for the past five minutes now but they’ve been cooped up for a week, their cards were getting low and Sam’s finding himself becoming a hypocrite.  Because even though Sam’s found plenty of opportunities to complain about their lifestyle he’s starting to find not hunting painfully, mind numbingly boring.  He needs to find a hunt, save someone, hell, _kill_ something.

And it bodes true to his boredom that he doesn’t mind the fact his hands were itching to get a hold on one, any really, of his weapons and go find some monster to release his pent up aggression on.  He feels like he should be disturbed by this, sure that most people don’t fantasize killing things in creative ways to relieve stress and incestuous problems, but at the same time he really doesn’t care enough right now.  Not with him and Dean on an unsure plain of where they stand and with the looming possibility of Dean being pregnant hanging over head, tackle one problem at a time.

“I don’t want to watch TV.”  Dean said in turn, rolling over onto his back and looking at the room upside, arms crossed over his midsection.

“Read a book.”  Sam suggested, even though he knew it wouldn’t get anywhere, not with Dean as he is now.  In fact, Sam’s not sure he’s seen his brother read outside of a case’s research ever.

“Don’t feel like it.”  Dean grumbled his way, and of course Dean doesn’t feel like it, he never feels like anything Sam suggests as of late.  

Sam sighed, putting his book down and leveling his brother a stare that begged him to give him something to work off.  Dean didn’t get the memo from the look, staring back at him with a quirked eyebrow and mouthing ‘what’.

“Look, dude, you’ve been, fuck, you’ve been _infuriating_.”  Sam said, tired and strained and tossing his book in the general direction of the wobbly table out of frustration.  It hit the corner of the small wooden thing, bouncing off and plopping to the carpeted floor with a pitiful whump of noise.  Dean watched it, unimpressed, before rolling onto back onto his stomach and resting his head in the crook of his crossed arms.

“Yeah, well you haven’t been exactly peachy either, gigantor.”  Dean said, stretching his arms out awkwardly before resuming their resting position.

“What.  What have I possibly done that’s shown my ‘unpeachiness’.”  Sam grit out, annoyed and tired.

“You’ve just been grumbling and whining this entire week.”  Dean said simply, his voice almost childlike as he looked up to the molting ceiling.  Bits and pieces of the paint peeled off and revealed the placid colours of the plaster beneath.

“ _Me_?  I’ve been grumbling all week?  Dean, have you not _been_ here?”  Sam said, loud and angry, glaring at Dean through his bangs.  His brother didn’t appear too bothered, instead seemed to brush off the comment as he sat up on the edge of the bed.  He looked to his feet, toes curling into the carpet.

Dean wasn’t looking up at him, a strange look in his eyes and Sam couldn’t quite read the expression.  His anger was momentarily on hold, confused at Dean’s odd behaviour.

“Dean?”  Sam asked, standing up and making his way slowly over to where his brother was.  He prompted Dean’s name again, leaning down to get eye level and just then noticed the strange shakes his brother was giving, how his breath was coming in ragged pants.  A flash of panic went through him, these symptoms not unlike what Dean showed before trying to jump his bones.

“Hey man, you okay?”  He asked, and the next thing he knew Dean lurched forward, except it wasn’t like all the other times he attempted to latch onto Sam, no, this felt different, and it only heightened his fears for the worst.  Instead Dean let out a pained gasp, falling into Sam and clinging to him with desperate hands, mumbling something under his breath and Sam fell back with the force.

He gave a small _oof_ , looking to his chest where Dean was curled into him, his brother’s body jerking with every wretched gasp.  Sam tried to sit up, but every attempt at getting up was thwarted by Dean begging him not to, one hand clawing into Sam’s shirt while the other wrapped around his abdomen.  His face was red, eyes clenched shut and Sam swore he saw tears beginning to well and he went from panicked to freaking the fuck out.

Sam didn’t know what to do, Dean was lying on him, damn near crying in pain and begging him not to go, and since he’s never really been in this particular situation ever, he was lost.  Thinking to Katya who told him to call if anything went awry he began reaching into his pocket, struggling to get around Dean’s body while his other hand rubbed soothingly at his brother’s back, trying to comfort him somewhat while he called for help.

The phone barely reached his line of vision before Dean slapped it out of his hands.

“Don’t!  Don’t please, I’m fine, fine, just, give me few fucking moments please.”  Dean said in a broken tone and it was perhaps his only saving grace from Sam asking him what was up with throwing his phone, the thing wasn’t cheap.

“Dean, you’re, dude you’re _crying_.”  Sam stressed, one elbow propping himself up to get a better look at his brother’s shaking form.

“I am fucking not.”  Dean spat back, raking viciously at his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt while his other hand continued to knead heavily into his gut.  Sam didn’t know what to make of this, the wave of pain that was plaguing Dean apparently dissipating as his brother was acting more like himself.

“Your nose is red.”  Sam pointed out, face still scrunched in worry and really considering making a lunge for the phone.

“Yeah and you have hippy hair.”  Dean snipped back, glaring at Sam but the effect was lost when he had red rimmed eyes and was still clinging to him.  If Sam wasn’t still alerted from the whole fiasco he would have found it almost cute, except they were still on this obscure plateau of where they stood and Sam sort of dreaded the conversation they were going to have once this was all over.

A few minutes passed and Dean seemed adamant on not looking at Sam, and it probably would have worked if he still wasn't sitting on him.  Sam would have kicked him off if he still wasn’t worried, one hand keeping himself propped up at the other hanging awkwardly off Dean’s back.

“So…  You going to tell me what that was?”  Sam asked slowly, letting his bangs fall over his eyes while he stares down the spots on his chest where Dean’s fingers were clinging to.  

“No.”  Dean said, stubbornly, and Sam cast him an unimpressed raise of brow.

“What?  I pretend you didn’t just cry on me?”

“I didn’t _cry_ , I was just…  Just uh…”  Dean looked off to the side, pouting almost, and Sam wanted to laugh, but he was still kind of shaken up.  There was humour to be found however, and a smile dawned his face.

“Just sweating from your eyes?”  Sam said, and that earned him a sharp look from Dean.

“Shut up.”  Dean said.

“Seriously, Dean, what happened?”  Sam pressed, and Dean averted his gaze to Sam’s stomach, fingers fluttering about Sam’s shirt as he thought on the question.

“I don’t know, felt weird, next thing I knew my stomach was getting bombed or some shit.  Hurt like hell.”  As he said this his hand returned to his stomach, rubbing worryingly at it and Sam tracked the movement as his mind made connections it very much didn’t want too.

“Well, shouldn’t we call Katya?”

“And what’s she gonna tell us?  That a stomach ache is solid proof I’m…  pregnant?”  The word still didn’t flow off his tongue right, left a bad taste and Sam shared the sentiment.

“I don’t know!  Something?”  Sam said, shrugging his shoulders.  He looked to Dean’s chest a moment, gnawing the inside of his cheek in thought.  “That wasn’t a regular stomach ache.”

“Your point being?”  Dean replied, releasing the cloth of Sam’s shirt to cross his arms and stare down Sam, his best big brother expression on full force but the effect was lost.  No way it was going to work when Dean for some reason or the other chose to stay on Sam instead of vacate the premise.

“Well…   _Were_ you cramping at your stomach?”  Sam asked carefully, shifting where he sat because motels all seemed to buy the same, cheap, scratchy carpet and it wasn’t really the most comfortable place to sit.

“Where else would I be cramping?”  Dean retorted, eyebrow raised.  Sam sighed, biting his tongue and deciding to just go for it as he pressed a hand against Dean’s lower abdomen.  His older brother made a strange hissing sound, body arching away from his touch and one hand going to replace Sam’s in a defensive gesture.

“Dude!  The fuck?”  Dean asked, angry and pained and Sam was right to guess the pain waves weren’t exactly over.

“That’s not where your stomach is.”  Sam said.

“No Sam, that’s where I thought my lungs were.  What, think I don’t know simple biology?  Of course thats not where my friggen stomach is.”  Dean bit back, his hand rubbing gingerly at his sore gut and Sam wasn’t of the mind he’d like what that meant.

“My point being, uhm, see, simple biology.”  Sam muttered, awkward because he wasn’t sure how to state this to _Dean_ of all people.

“Simple biology what.”  Dean said, tone flat and Sam raked a hand through his hair.

“That’s where the women’s wo-”

“You finish that sentence and I will kick your ass so hard you won’t be able to speak for a week, Sam.”

“Dean, we can’t just-”

And now Dean got off him, not being kind as he swung upwards and legs managing to rough Sam’s sides up a bit as he stormed off to the bathroom, door slamming shut and Sam figured he could have handled it better.  Then again, _he’s_ not even sure what he was getting at.

Or maybe he was, he just didn’t really like what he was trying to say.

 

**Author's Note:**

> idk guess ill update every four or five days since i already have over half this thing written out?


End file.
